


The Writer

by margaerystark, rebeccavis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-09 18:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19892503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaerystark/pseuds/margaerystark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccavis/pseuds/rebeccavis
Summary: Robb Stark discovers a novel that captures his imagination and decides to put pen to paper, not knowing that the author might be closer than he thinks.





	1. The Letter

“Shit, this is so… stupid.”

Robb Stark ran a hand through his hair in frustration, looking over the letter he’d just written. He had never considered himself to be the most eloquent with his words, especially not when writing something so formal, and he was feeling particularly critical given his current correspondent.

He had recently stumbled upon a book while he was meant to be picking out a gift for his friend’s nameday. He wasn’t normally one to read for pleasure, but his copy of  _ Unbridled _ by Tyler Gray Lemar was well-worn, the edges of the pages fraying and the spine split in several places. It was the blurb on the back cover that had grabbed his attention initially, and once he had opened it to the first page he had known that he had to continue reading. When his mother had asked him about it later, curious as to the novel he was so enthralled in, he had simply replied that he found the characters compelling, which was true. The part that he could never say out loud was just how much he identified with the predicament of the female protagonist.

“ _ Dear Mr. Lemar _ ,” his letter began, and he had deliberated on those three words alone for a good few minutes before scrawling them down. 

_ “I’m certain you have people write to you often about Lyra as she is a fantastically spirited and lovable character. I found myself drawn to her from the moment I picked up your novel and began to read.” _

He went on to describe the qualities of the main character that he admired, hoping that he didn’t sound  _ too  _ eager to flatter. He wasn’t even sure he expected a response; Mr. Lemar undoubtedly received a fair amount of correspondence as his address was stamped in the back cover of his book, and it really was very good literature, even if those reading couldn’t relate to the characters. Mostly, he wanted to thank the writer for bringing to life a character that had helped him see things from a different point of view.

“ _ I find that in polite society there are things that we dare not discuss, for fear that they might upset the norms that have been set in place to allow polite society to continue to exist. I would not deny myself to be a member of said society, and I firmly believe in the importance of honor. However, there is something to be said for the (forgive me) unbridled freedom Lyra embodies. I do not yet know the answer, but reading her story made me wonder if it might be possible to somehow reconcile both. _

_ “If you have made it to the end of this letter, then I commend you. I hope my ramblings have been mostly coherent…”  _ He paused to take a sip of tea and let out a short sigh. He’d gone over the letter several times, pondering whether he ought to send it or not. 

_ ‘What do you have to lose?’  _ he thought to himself, and then rather sillily, ‘ _ What would Lyra do?’ _

“She’d send it,” he concluded aloud, giving a resolute nod.

“Robb?” Catelyn Stark’s voice called out as he made his way to the door, “Are you on your way out?”

“Aye, Mother,” Robb called back, “I’m going to the post office. Do you need anything?”

“Yes, actually,” Catelyn replied, “Hold on a moment.” Robb heard the sound of some rustling of papers, and shortly afterwards his mother emerged into the foyer to present him with a neatly wrapped parcel. “I was going to have someone send it, but if you’re heading into town…”

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry,” Robb replied with a smile.

“You’re going all the way to the post office just for the sake of a letter?” Catelyn asked, a smile appearing on her own face as she raised her eyebrows.

He could tell his little rendezvous had piqued her interest. His parents had been insistent on his pursuit of several affluent, young ladies as of late, and he wagered a guess that his mother thought he might be sending a letter to one of his prospective matches. He loved both of his parents dearly, and perhaps that was why he was terrified of letting them down in any way. 

“Just… writing to a friend,” he remarked quietly, slipping the letter underneath the parcel she’d given him, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t forget about tonight, Robb,” Catelyn said, placing a hand on his arm to stop him.

He tried not to let confusion register on his face as he thought about what he was meant to be doing ‘tonight’, but his mother saw right through him. 

“Hollynd Mollen is joining us for dinner,” she told him with a reproachful glance.

“Of course,” Robb said, producing a smile, “I will be here, and I’ll be appropriately dressed. I’m looking forward to meeting her.” 

It wasn’t entirely a lie. He did enjoy meeting new people, and he knew the Mollens were a family his father respected. Robb was certain he would have nothing against Hollynd. For all he knew, he might find her delightful, and he might be able to see himself marrying her. He’d been introduced to several young women in the area at this point, and all of them had been sweet and pleasant to be around. None of them, however, had made his heart beat faster or made him unable to stop thinking about them long after they had gone. 

He had nearly given up on the prospect of finding love until he read Mr. Lemar’s book in which Lyra had defied societal expectations and refused all of her suitors. He remembered a passage from the novel that he found particularly moving.

_ “Oh, how I want to give love and be loved in return! It ought not be such a maddening thought. Perhaps one day my family will come to see why I have rebelled. I do not wish to hurt them. I only wish to live my life as I see fit.” _

“I’m glad to hear it,” Catelyn said, snapping him out of his thoughts as she raised an eyebrow at him. Robb thought she didn’t sound entirely convinced, but he hoped that was just his imagination. Sometimes he wondered if his mother didn’t know him rather too well. 

“See you soon, Mother!” Robb called out, heading out the door with both items in his hands. The temptation still remained not to send out the letter at all, but he told himself he had committed now and couldn’t go back. After all, the worst that could happen was for him never to receive a response.

* * *

Margaery had to bite back a smile as she read over words she never expected to see. When she had first started writing, she admittedly had done so out of vexation, venting with her pen rather than her mouth. She’d published her first novel in hopes that it might inspire someone, but she could not have predicted the overwhelming response she had just collected from one of her fans.

“‘ _ I am no writer myself’...  _ I beg to differ, Robb Stark,” she murmured to herself with a small chuckle. He had all but poured out his heart to her in the most impassioned of ways. She found herself uncertain of how to respond to his inquiries, however, not sure she was qualified to be giving him advice about his love life.

“What are you reading, dear sister?” Loras’s voice came from over her shoulder, and she subtly folded the letter back in half so he couldn’t see.

“Just another letter from a suitor,” Margaery replied with a smile. The lie slipped out easily as one that she’d used before when she’d been seen with letters from her fans.

“They’re so insistent. I suppose sending letters is better than coming to knock on the door,” Loras noted, “Are they aware there isn’t a great deal of hope when one of your suitors is an actual prince?”

Margaery pursed her lips together. She did not wish to think of Joffrey if she was able; he’d become a nuisance since the moment he started to court her, and only his title and status kept her from cutting ties with him. 

“I suppose not,” she replied, clutching the letter to her bosom. She wondered what her fans would think of her if they knew - first, that she was a woman and that ‘Mr. Tyler Gray Lemar’ was merely a pseudonym, and second, that she had written a whole novel about following one’s heart while she let some of the most despicable men wine and dine her to appease her family. 

“This one was particularly romantic, though,” she added, raising her eyebrows teasingly, “Perhaps I might give him a chance.”

“Because as everyone knows, you’re an incurable romantic,” Loras teased her in return, “Careful not to lose your standing as the most sensible Tyrell in Grandmother Olenna’s eyes.”

Margaery kept up her smile, not letting the tinge of sadness she felt show through. For the most part, she  _ was _ sensible, having learnt from her Grandmother at a very young age the dangers of getting caught up in her own emotions. Her stories, though, was the one place where none of that mattered. Unlike her, protagonists such as Lyra could love freely without having to consider every possible ramification. 

“Are you going to reply to him, then?” Loras pressed, looking curious.

“I might,” she answered rather ambiguously.

“ _ I will,”  _ she thought to herself, “ _ Robb Stark deserves an answer from me.” _

“I meant to bring you this,” Loras spoke up again, passing a piece of parchment over to her, “It came for all of us. An invitation. To a party.” 

Margaery’s eyes widened as she looked over the the paper her brother had given her. “Not just any party. A party in King’s Landing hosted by the king himself?” she queried. “That could be exciting.”

“Prominent families from all across Westeros are being invited. Grandma Olenna thinks some sort of big announcement is being planned,” Loras remarked, though he didn’t sound too convinced, “Renly said it’s more likely that His Grace simply wants to have a party.”

“Well, there’s always the possibility that both Grandma Olenna  _ and _ Renly are right,” Margaery pointed out, “Father’s saying yes, isn’t he?”

“Of course. How could he say anything else?” Loras replied.

“Excellent. It’ll be nice for you to see Renly again,” Margaery remarked, smiling fondly at her brother. It quickly occurred to her, however, that this would also mean she would have to see Joffrey again.

She let out a soft sigh, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear and standing up from her chair. “Come then, let’s find something for us both to wear,” she suggested, “I bet you will look dashing in that golden vest Mother picked out for you the other day.”

He laughed softly. “Good thing I have my fashionable sister to help me pick out my outfits. You always know how to make a statement.”

She was wearing a smile again when she latched onto Loras’s arm and led him out of the study. She knew she would have to see Joffrey again, but perhaps she might have a grand time anyhow. A party gave her an excuse to dress up and dance and meet new people - all things that she thoroughly enjoyed - and she wouldn’t let anything dampen her spirits after receiving such a lovely note from a fan.


	2. The Dance

The letter had arrived just as he and his siblings had been getting ready to leave, both to Robb’s surprise and delight. He truly hadn’t had much hope of Mr. Lemar replying to him, let alone sending a lengthy and incredibly gracious letter. 

The Stark family had a long journey ahead of them to King’s Landing, where his father had been invited to visit his old friend who just so happened to be the King of Westeros. It wasn’t a journey that would be taken on a whim, but Robb’s understanding was that the letter his parents has received had made it clear it was an invitation that couldn’t be refused. At least he had a letter of his own to keep him occupied, hidden between the pages of a book to stop his family from prying.

“ _Robb,_

_I hope you don’t mind my calling you by your first name. Your letter felt as though it was authored by an old friend rather than a stranger._

_Firstly, let me thank you for writing to me. I appreciate you taking the time to explain how much Lyra means to you. She is quite near and dear to my heart for obvious reasons, but it’s always good to know that my characters resonate with more than just-”_

“Robb?”

“Hmm?” Robb barely looked up from his book to answer Sansa who had addressed him. She was sat across from him working on her sewing as her own way to pass the time at the inn the whole family had stopped at for the evening.

“I’ve never seen you so invested,” she remarked with a small laugh, “When are you going to let me borrow that novel you’ve been reading?”

“Not for a while, I suspect,” Robb replied hastily, “It’s very good. I want to take some time to savor it.”

“It’s not another one by Mr. Lemar, is it?” Sansa asked, and Robb did look up then. He had no idea that Sansa had been paying any kind of attention to what he’d been reading either now or in the past. “I just finished ‘Unbridled’ and I loved it,” she added, “I’m hoping he’ll have a new book out soon.”

“I’m not sure Mother and Father would think Unbridled is entirely age appropriate for you,” Robb noted, raising an eyebrow, “But I’m glad you liked it.”

His sister gave a small pout. “I’m not a child anymore,” she said pointedly, “Anyhow, I’m surprised you’re reading _at all._ You hated literature when we did our studies.”

“Lemar is a good writer. He draws you in,” Robb remarked simply, giving a small shrug. He was eager to get back to his letter as he had only really skimmed it over when he received it.

“You’ve been more interested in your reading lately than Hollynd or Erena or Eddara or-”

Robb shot Sansa a glare, and she quickly shut up. He didn’t want to think about any of the women he had met over the past few months, particularly after disappointing his parents once again during the last dinner they’d held for him. He had yet to make a genuine connection with anyone, and though his mother and father were never cross with him, he could tell they were losing patience. 

“Robb! Sansa!” Catelyn’s voice could be heard calling out from the next room, “Supper is on the table.”

“Yes, Mother!” Robb called back, trying not to let disappointment creep into his voice that he might have to postpone reading the rest of the letter yet again. “Would you mind telling her I’ll be along in a moment?” he asked, turning to Sansa, “I just really want to finish this chapter.”

“I will, but I can’t make any promises that she’ll accept that as an excuse,” Sansa replied, “You know Mother.”

“Aye, I do. I’ve known her for three years longer than you, as a matter of fact,” Robb noted with a small smile, “I’ll be there very soon.”

While Sansa put down her sewing and disappeared into the next room, Robb’s attention returned to the letter. He supposed he should have expected a writer as good as Mr. Lemar to be equally eloquent in his correspondence, but he still found himself in awe of every sentence he read, feeling privileged that the author had chosen to respond to him.

“ _As to your dilemma, I wish I could be of more help and provide you with a more certain answer, but in truth it is one I grappled with myself while writing the novel. It is my hope pulling back the curtain does not overly affect your view of the story, when all I wish to do is be as honest with you as you have been with me._

_“You see, Mr. Lemar is but a pseudonym. I am actually a woman - a young woman who knew she could sell more books by writing as a man nearly twice her age.”_

Robb nearly dropped the letter, his eyes widening as he read over words that shocked him. He was not sure why Mr. Lemar, or rather, the young lady writing as Mr. Lemar, would disclose such information to him, but he did not think any less of her for what she’d chosen to tell him. In fact, he found her all the more clever for her plans. 

He gave a small chuckle before continuing on. _“I daren’t give you my real name for now. One, because I find there to be some fun in mystery, and two, because I fear it falling into the wrong hands. I hope you understand my reasoning._

_“I am truly sorry I cannot be of more help to you and your situation, Robb. I know this is not the answer you seek, but gentlemen and women in our position must often do whatever is required of us in order to help our families… Were that we all had the luxury of marrying for love. I can tell you, however, that you are not alone, and I pray you wish to continue our correspondence as I very much reveled in reading your words. I hope to hear from you again soon._

_“Yours sincerely,_ _  
_ _T.G. Lemar”_

Robb barely heard the sound of his mother, somewhat impatient by now, calling him again from next door. He could hardly believe that in writing to his favorite author he appeared to have stumbled upon something which sounded like it belonged in one of Lemar’s stories: a bold heroine who had defied the odds and hidden her identity so that she could write about her heart’s desires. He could hardly wait to write back and ask more about her, but he was forced to resist the temptation to pen his response right away when his father showed up at the door to his room. Eddard Stark didn’t have to say a word for Robb to know he was in trouble, and he quickly tucked the letter inside his book again before hurrying to join the rest of his family. Perhaps it was just as well, he thought - he could do with some time to think about how to write a response even half-worthy of the astonishing Miss Lemar. 

* * *

Margaery sat with her cousins, wringing her gloved hands as she looked round at the dancefloor. She would normally be joining in on the fun and laughter, but most of her evening had been occupied with trying to avoid Joffrey. She wished now that she hadn’t dressed and fashioned her hair so elegantly, not wanting to stand out among the other guests, but it would look rather odd to her family if she didn’t dress to impress for such an auspicious occasion.

“Oh gods, Margaery, here he comes,” Alla spoke up, giving a small giggle as she nodded in the direction of the young prince. 

Margaery quickly ducked behind a pillar at her cousin’s warning, her eyes shifting to the ground. ‘ _This is utterly ridiculous,’_ she thought to herself, ‘ _I ought to find someone else to dance with so that he doesn’t bother me... Perhaps Renly would be willing to help me out.’_

It was when she looked up again, scouring the room for Renly Baratheon, that she noticed that someone else seemed to have had the same idea as her. Standing behind the next pillar along was a man of about her age, smartly dressed though clearly not flaunting his status, and whose face she could not see much of besides the fact that he had a beard which matched his auburn curls. It wasn’t until he looked over and noticed her that she could tell his eyes were a brilliant blue. He smiled somewhat sheepishly, his shoulders coming up in a small shrug. Margaery pressed a finger to her own lips and smiled back, hoping to communicate the message that she wouldn’t say anything if he didn’t. 

She sidled up closer to him, raising her eyebrows. “Who are _you_ hiding from?” she queried just loudly enough so that he could hear her over the music.

He gave a gentle chuckle. “No one in particular… I was waiting for the opportune moment to ask someone to dance, but my parents were keen on introducing me to every lady that so much as glanced my way and… it became rather overwhelming.”

Margaery laughed aloud, shaking her head in amusement. “I know the feeling all too well,” she admitted before adding, “I can imagine a lot of ladies were doing more than just glancing your way.” The young man’s face turned a brilliant shade of red at her words.

“What about you, if I may ask?” he said with a grin, “What brings you to this quaint little spot?”

“Similar circumstances,” Margaery replied, not wanting to be entirely upfront about who she was avoiding in particular, “We are of that age, I suppose. I hear that the king is due to make an important announcement tonight concerning the future Hand of the King, however, so I’m hoping when he does there will be less attention on us.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Where did you hear that from?” he asked.

“My brother is a friend of Prince Renly’s,” Margaery explained, “And I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. How rude of me. I’m Margaery Tyrell.”

“Good to meet you,” he replied, holding out his hand for her to shake, “I’m Robb. Robb Stark.”

Margaery felt her heart give a leap in her chest, and she nearly forgot her graces as she gave him her hand in return. Could it really be Robb - _her_ Robb? The one whose words had both delighted and entranced her? 

“You can’t be serious,” she practically blurted out, and though her tone was soft, he gave her a confused smile. “Sorry, what I meant to say was… I did not think anyone had traveled that far to be here,” she hastily corrected herself, “The Starks hail from the far north, no?”

“Aye. Winterfell as a matter of fact,” Robb replied, his smile turning warm, “We don’t normally venture this far south, especially not all of us, but when the king requests your presence I believe it’s considered rude to say no. Especially when he’s known your father since they were boys.”

“Of course,” Margaery breathed, realization dawning on her. She had been so distracted by the fact that she appeared to met her correspondent that she had forgotten her lessons; Eddard Stark and King Robert Baratheon had grown up together and by all accounts had been very close. “Your father must be...very pleased to see his old friend again,” she commented, trying not to think about how handsome Robb was.

“They’ve been in talks all day,” Robb remarked. A crinkle appeared in his brow as he appeared to be lost in thought for a moment. “You don’t think that…?” he asked Margaery.

It seemed Robb shared her thoughts. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly, “But it does no good to dwell on speculation… Especially not when we’re meant to be enjoying ourselves. Tell me, do they throw parties as extravagant as this one in Winterfell?”

Robb’s expression softened as he gave a laugh. “Not at all. I suppose that’s part of the reason why I feel a bit overwhelmed. I’m not even sure that we dance in the same fashion as southerners.”

“You must show me the Northern way, then,” Margaery suggested. She did not know if she believed in fate, but it could not be mere coincidence that she had all but fallen into the lap of the man who had written to her. If the gods saw fit to have them meet, she would take advantage of that fact.

Robb took a moment too long to answer and Margaery was very briefly worried she had been too forward, but he then broke into a broad grin. “I’m sorry, Miss Margaery, I’m the one who’s been terribly rude,” he remarked, extending a hand for hers, “I didn’t ask you to dance. Would you do me the honor of being my partner?”

“I would be delighted, Mr. Robb,” Margaery replied sincerely. She only barely noticed the murmurs that went through the crowd as she stepped out onto the dance floor with him, feeling more in awe than anything else. “How do you…?” she questioned softly as he took his place beside her.

“Two steps forward, one step back, dip, turn, then take my hand,” he instructed with a smile, sending her heart a flutter.

She nodded her head in understanding. It sounded rather similar to the dances she’d learned in Highgarden, the movements only modified slightly. She took a few turns in silence learning how he danced with his helpful guidance before she felt confident enough to converse again.

“What’s this one called?” she asked Robb curiously.

“Sprigs of Coldsnaps,” he answered, circling around her, “My favorite is ‘Snowflake Flurry’, but I fear that might be a bit too lively for the current music.”

“Perhaps this party could do with something a bit more lively,” Margaery teased, her voice quiet, and Robb let out a soft chuckle.

“I think there might be a bit more going on if there weren’t so many girls waiting to dance with Prince Joffrey,” he noted, nodding over towards where a group of young women were all standing looking hopeful. “Although I suppose it makes sense. People in our position must often do what is required in order to help our families...and a prince is a very good match,” he added.

Margaery’s breath caught in her throat. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but his words sounded remarkably like those she had written in her letter.

“Yes,” she said sadly with a nod, realizing she hadn’t been taking her own advice as she’d been dodging Joffrey all evening. Her marrying him _would_ be extremely beneficial to her family, even if it wasn’t what her heart desired.

“I’m sorry, Miss. Margaery. I fear I’ve said something out of turn,” Robb spoke up, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“I’m the one who ought to apologize. I just… got caught up in my mind,” she explained softly.

“Happens to me all the time,” Robb remarked with an encouraging smile, “And I am truly sorry if I caused offence. I don’t mean to speak ill of others, I just...I am somewhat concerned that my sister is among the girls who seem to favor him.”

Margaery’s eyes grew wide. Her father had commented on a red-haired young woman earlier who seemed to be spending a lot of time around Joffrey, and now she was starting to see the family resemblance. “I can understand why you might be concerned,” she said quietly, hoping Robb wouldn’t ask her to elaborate.

She circled around her dancing partner one last time before the song ended, and she clapped along with him and the rest of the guests. “Thank you for the dance,” she said, a smile growing on her face once more, “Do you… Would you like to sit this next one out and go… talk somewhere?”

She could see Robb’s eyes grow wide before he gave his answer. “Yes, let’s... You don’t mind if we don’t stray too far? I want to make sure we don’t miss any announcements the king might make.”

“Of course,” Margaery said, nodding in understanding, “Just somewhere perhaps we might not have to look at Prince Joffrey and his long line of admirers.”

Robb gave a small chuckle then, and to her slight surprise offered his hand to her. She took it without hesitation, and he gently led her past the rows of columns to a large doorway. “I should probably tell you I don’t really know where I’m going,” he admitted playfully, “This whole place is astonishing and somewhat intimidating.”

Margaery found it difficult to concentrate on anything but the feeling of her hand in Robb’s, and her cheeks grew hot when she realized she had not replied to him as he gave her a look of anticipation. “I know my way around a bit,” she told him with a soft smile, “Anyhow, I don’t care where we go. I’m just glad to be with you.”

Her companion’s own face flushed bright red then, and he nodded his head with a grin. His gaze fell on someone else, however, as they made to leave the great hall. A woman who bore a striking resemblance to him and seemed about twice his age looked their way, her eyebrows cocked and a smile itching at the corners of her mouth.

“Is that your mother?” Margaery asked quietly.

“Aye,” Robb murmured back, “And she’s supposed to be cross with me, so I’m not quite sure what that’s all about.”

“Does she have reason to be cross with you?” Margaery enquired with a small smile.

“I suppose so,” Robb admitted, “I know she only wants what’s best for me, and for all of us.”

“All of you?” Margaery knew from Robb’s letter that he had quite a few siblings as she did, but he didn’t know that she was already aware of this fact.

“Sorry, my brothers and sisters. I have two of each. All younger than me.”

“Ah, so you’re the eldest. I’m the youngest,” Margaery said, “I believe… most parents want what’s best for their children. Mine included. I do know it can be difficult sometimes, though.”

He nodded once more. “I should not complain. I am lucky in most respects. They love me and care for me, which is more than I can say for others… My cousin lost both of his parents at an early age… I shouldn’t take them for granted.”

“You seem to be very concerned about what you should and shouldn’t be feeling if you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Robb,” Margaery remarked. Robb looked to be about to protest, but she shook her head with a small smile. “I think it’s sweet, for what it’s worth. A lesser man wouldn’t take into consideration the situations of others.”

“You really ought to just call me ‘Robb’,” he said, and when she glanced at him she noticed his cheeks were flushed pink.

She was suddenly overcome with the urge to press her lips to his, but she shook the preposterous notion from her head, having to remind herself that, to him, she was just a woman he’d met only a little while ago rather than someone he’d been corresponding with. “Then you ought to just call me ‘Margaery’,” she responded gently. 

“I’m quite pleased we both found each other whilst hiding, Margaery,” he remarked with a laugh, and she thought her name sounded rather like a song when he said it.

“As am I, Robb,” she agreed with a giggle, “And I’m quite pleased to have learned a new style of dancing. I will have to take that one with me back home.”

“To...Highgarden,” Robb said, “If I remember my lessons. I don’t know very much about it, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Margaery said, smiling brightly, “Unfortunately my family will probably be staying in King’s Landing for a little while longer.”

“Well, depending on what happens now perhaps mine will as well,” Robb remarked with a smile of his own, “It doesn’t seem quite so unfortunate anymore.”

Margaery bit down on her bottom lip, wondering if she’d ever met anyone so genuinely lovely in all of her life. She made to take his other hand in hers, but a booming voice caused her to jump slightly and look back towards the hall. 

“Good evening!” King Robert bellowed, his words slurred as though he’d had a bit too much to drink. He was met with a few hoots and cheers. “My hope is that you are having a splendid time here… Though truthfully I did not bring you all here just to party!”

“Oh gods, he’s… He’ll probably tell us who he intends to make his Hand,” Robb said, a somewhat panicked look appearing on his face, “Should we go back in?”

“I suppose we should,” Margaery answered somewhat reluctantly. She bit down on her bottom lip, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze since he looked as though he could use some comfort. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, no matter what happens,” she affirmed, “Your parents wouldn’t make a decision unless it was the best one for you and your family.”

Robb swallowed and then nodded back at her, making her feel a little guilty for her words. She wasn’t sure how much of a decision the Starks had if King Robert really did want Robb’s father as his Hand, but she wasn’t about to make her newfound friend feel even worse.

She followed after him as he hurried back to the hall, her spirits falling slightly. She wished she had more time with Robb, but he was to be staying in King’s Landing, she would be sure to seek out his company. While the son of the King’s Hand wasn’t exactly as esteemed as the King’s son, she was certain her family would still be pleased with such a match.


	3. The Rival

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell us about her?”

There were four faces looking at Robb, although he could tell that only one or maybe two at most were actually interested in the young woman he’d been seen with the day before. Rickon’s attention appeared to be on something over Robb’s shoulder, Arya was rolling her eyes, Bran had glanced up from his book and only Sansa was riveted, her chin resting in her hands.

“There isn’t really much more to tell,” Robb admitted, looking at his sister somewhat regretfully, “That was right before the speech incident.” He still felt embarrassed on his father’s behalf when he thought about how he’d had to interrupt an announcement made by the King of Westeros to gently explain that he was still deliberating over whether to accept the offer that had been made to him. Robb knew his mother was still angry at Robert for the entire debacle, and he couldn’t say he entirely blamed her.

“Robb, you danced with one of the most beautiful ladies in Westeros from one of the most prominent families,” Sansa remarked, raising her eyebrows, “Don’t tell me you don’t fancy her.”

“It’s too soon to tell,” he said weakly, “I may be a romantic, but I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight... I mean, I enjoyed the time I spent with her-”

“You’re never going to get married at this rate,” Arya interrupted, causing Sansa to shoot her a glare. “Sorry, but it’s true! By the time Robb figures out whether he fancies someone or not, she’s already going to have offers from fifty other men!”

Robb trailed a hand through his hair in frustration, then standing to his feet. “Anyone else want to have a go at me before I leave the room? I’d rather have you get it out now and say it to my face instead of behind my back.” He knew Arya didn’t mean to be unkind, but her words still stung nonetheless.

“Arya, you ought to apologize,” Sansa chastised their sister, her brow slightly furrowed, “There’s no need to be rude to Robb.”

“You just want him on your side so he can help you convince Father to accept the king’s offer,” Arya shot back, “So you can go ahead and marry Joffrey and be a princess.”

A blush crossed Sansa’s features, and Robb found himself only getting more worked up. “Sansa knows what I think about Joffrey and she knows it will stay the same regardless of what non-existent side she’s on,” he noted.

His eldest sister opened her mouth to seemingly protest, but he shook his head slightly. “I’m going to go for a walk,” he informed his siblings. Walking would help clear his head, but he had something else in mind as well; he had written another letter to Lemar earlier that morning and needed to find the post office in King’s Landing.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly ran into someone on his way out the door, his eyes widening in surprise when he realized who it was.

“Hello, Robb!” Margaery Tyrell declared, “I was just coming to look for you and see if you had any plans for the day… Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Margaery!” Robb exclaimed, breaking into a smile, “You didn’t startle me. You just surprised me, but it was a pleasant one.” He felt his heart beat a little bit faster when she smiled at him in return, and that took him by surprise as well. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Well, if I’m to be a surprise far better to be a good one,” Margaery replied, letting out a laugh, “It’s good to see you, too. So...do you?”

“Do I…?” Robb echoed, and Margaery giggled again.

“Do you have plans for the day?”

He felt his cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. “Oh, right! No, I… I was just going to find the post office so I can deliver a letter.”

He watched Margaery’s mouth fall open and her eyebrows raise before she spoke up once more. “I can show you where it is if you like,” she told him, a grin appearing on her face again.

“That would be great. Thank you,” he said, nodding his head. She really was incredibly beautiful with her piercing eyes and soft smile, and the way she was looking at him presently made him weak in the knees. He gave a small cough. “Shall we?” he asked, gesturing down the corridor.

When Margaery gave a nod Robb made to offer her his arm, but before they had even had a chance to head towards the door a voice called out to him. “Robb?” Catelyn said, making her way into the foyer, “I thought I’d heard another voice. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“Yes, of course. Where are my manners?” Robb replied hastily, “Mother, this is Miss Margaery Tyrell. Margaery, my mother, Lady Catelyn.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Margaery said with a polite curtsey. 

Catelyn gave a soft nod, an amused smile on her lips. “I hope my son has been treating you well, Miss Margaery.”

“Oh yes, of course,” the younger woman remarked, “Robb is lovely.”

Robb could feel even the tips of his ears grow pink at Margaery’s comment.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Catelyn said, “Where are the two of you headed this morning?”

“Margaery’s going to show me where the post office is,” Robb explained, exchanging a look with his new friend.

“I see. Or, as it’s otherwise known, Robb’s second home,” Catelyn remarked, “I wonder if I should be concerned that my son spends so much time writing letters.”

“Oh, I think it can only be seen as a virtue, my lady,” Margaery was quick to say, “I don’t know of many people who wouldn’t delight in receiving a well-written letter.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Catelyn acknowledged, “I just hope looking downwards so often isn’t making you blind as to what is in front of you, Robb.”

Robb’s brow furrowed slightly at his mother’s words, not quite sure he knew exactly what she was implying. He had spent a lot of time writing to Lemar, but he didn’t think that was a _bad_ thing. 

“Well, I’ll let you be on your way,” Catelyn spoke up again, “Miss Margaery, if you aren’t otherwise occupied, your family ought to join ours for supper tonight. I was just on my way to the kitchens to see what sort of food the Keep has to offer.”

“Thank you kindly, Lady Stark,” Margaery answered, “I will ask my brothers and parents, but we should be free. The food ought to be good… The Reach supplies the capitol with fresh fruits and vegetables.”

“Oh, were the peaches from last night from the Reach?” Robb wondered, “Those were delicious.”

“Yes, they were,” Margaery replied with a grin, “I wonder if there are any left over.”

“I’ll see if there are, and perhaps we can have some for dessert,” Catelyn declared, “I’ll let you two run along, but I hope to see your family this evening, Margaery.”

Margaery gave another polite curtsy, and Robb very nearly offered his arm to her again before changing his mind as he was not sure what his mother would think of the gesture. 

“She’s beautiful,” Margaery said once they began walking and were out of earshot, “And so kind. It was gracious of her to invite my family for dinner… My brothers had better be on their best behavior.”

Robb gave a small laugh at that. “My siblings as well… I am looking forward to meeting your parents and your brothers.”

“You are?” Margaery queried, perking up, “I know they’re all going to…” she trailed off then, her expression falling slightly. “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even asked them if they are unoccupied this evening.”

“Even if they are, I’m sure you’d still be welcome to join us,” Robb heard himself say, “It would be a pleasure.”

“You’re so very sweet,” Margaery remarked, and Robb felt his cheeks redden again, “I really am so glad I met you, Robb. I don’t think I can even convey to you how much.”

“And I’m so glad I met you. You’re a joy to talk to...and despite what my mother might say, I do enjoy conversation as well as correspondence,” Robb said, directing a playful smile at her.

He felt his breath catch in his through when she gave a giggle, a sensation he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced before. She had called him both lovely and sweet, but he thought those were words better used to describe her. 

“I think it’s nice that you have someone to write to,” she told him with a smile, “I wish I had a penpal… Perhaps if I return to Highgarden and you Winterfell, we can write to each other.”

“I’d love that. I’d wager you’re a great writer,” Robb declared, smiling in return. When Margaery giggled again, he thought it sounded slightly different than it had before but he couldn’t quite place how.

“What makes you say that?” Margaery asked him.

“I don’t know. The way you speak, I suppose,” Robb replied, “You’re so witty and...eloquent that I can only imagine in writing - when there’s even more time to think - you must be something to behold.”

Margaery’s cheeks grew bright red then, and he wondered if he said something he ought not to have. 

“Most men would disagree with you, you know,” she told him softly, “They say it’s dangerous to give a woman a pen.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t see the harm in it… We should all be free to follow our hearts and passions.”

They had made their way outside of the Keep by then and just barely rounded the corner when he saw a building with a sign marked ‘Post Office’ just above the doorway. 

“Here, why don’t you let me take your letter for you?” Margaery suggested, “I know the Postmaster, and I’ve become rather good at negotiating with him. I might be able to get him to prioritize your mail.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of you,” Robb replied, his smile broad. He opened his mouth again as he handed over his letter to her, and came very close to telling her everything about the brilliant author he was currently in correspondence with. The only thing that stopped him was that it wouldn’t be fair to Lemar - after all, she had entrusted him with keeping her identity secret, and there was no way he was going to betray her.

“Think nothing of it,” Margaery declared. He saw her take a look around and then, much to his surprise, she leant in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

He felt his cheek burn in the spot where she’d kissed him, but only in the most pleasant of ways. He had a sudden urge to take her hand or kiss her cheek in return, but he wasn’t sure he was feeling so bold. After all, he had only met her the day before, and she was most likely just being polite. 

He shuffled his feet a bit as she went up to the man behind the counter at the post office and began to talk with him. His burgeoning friendship with Margaery was starting to make him feel guilty, even though he was aware that didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t as if his parents disapproved of her; in fact, it seemed as though his mother was quite keen on Margaery being around. Robb, however, couldn’t help the fact that his thoughts kept returning to the young woman he’d written his letter to.

“All done,” Margaery announced, surprising him a little as she appeared next to him once more, “He assured me your letter will be there in good time.”

“Thank you,” he said again, offering her a weak smile.

She waved her hand dismissively. “So… Did you have anything else to do today?” she asked.

He was just about to answer her when he heard someone call out her name, and they both turned to see a young woman who looked to be a few years younger than them standing in the doorway of the post office. 

“Cousin, I’ve been looking all over for you!” she declared, “Prince Joffrey is requesting your presence for tea.”

“Prince Joffrey?” Robb echoed, raising his eyebrows. He recalled the young women who had been surrounding Joffrey at the party, but Margaery hadn’t been one of those women. He was surprised to hear that the prince was after her, particularly when he might soon be betrothed to Robb’s own younger sister.

“Oh…” Margaery glanced at him and then back at the young woman who was apparently her cousin. “At this very moment?” she asked.

“Yes! I’m so glad I’ve found you.” She reached for Margaery’s hand, giving it a tug. 

Margaery stood rooted to the spot, however. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Alla,” she said firmly before turning back to him, “I’m so sorry… I would rather spend time with you in all honesty, but when a prince comes calling… Well, I ought to see what he wants. I’ll see you at supper?”

“Of course. It wouldn’t do to say no to a prince,” Robb replied, offering up a small smile, “I’ll see you at supper. You could send a note, perhaps, once you know if your family will be able to join us?”

He noticed Margaery hesitate for just a moment before she gave her answer. “I will,” she answered, “Or perhaps I’ll just stop by myself. Hopefully tea won’t be long.”

He gave a nod, not entirely sure how he ought to proceed in saying goodbye to her. She looked at him with an almost expectant expression, and he settled for giving a small nod. “Good day, then, Margaery.”

She blinked and then gave a small smile, nodding in return. “Good day,” she replied. 

He watched her turn on her heel and then walk away to join her cousin, and he swallowed the lump in his throat, hoping he hadn’t done anything to offend her. For some reason he felt somewhat strange about their parting, but mostly he was just confused.

* * *

When Margaery finally managed to take her leave of Joffrey and his tea, she felt it wasn’t a moment too soon - although she strongly suspected her family would think otherwise. She wondered if she might be able to get away with not telling them about having been to see Joffrey at all, as she knew her father would want to hear all about it. Everything had changed after King Robert had made his premature announcement which Lord Eddard had interrupted. The Tyrell family were well aware that if Lord Stark were to accept the position he had been offered, it was all but guaranteed that Joffrey would be betrothed to his daughter and not Lord Mace’s. Margaery could already hear her grandmother’s voice telling her that she had very little time to act, but all she found herself wanting to think about was the young man she had only recently met.

She had snatched his letter to Lemar when he wasn’t looking, concealing it under her corset. She didn’t have the patience to wait until she arrived back in Highgarden to receive it, and the opportunity to take Robb’s letter had presented itself so neatly to her that she almost believed the gods had a hand in making it so.

She opened it after Joffrey dismissed her, hurrying to her chambers so that she could read it in private. Her hands shook slightly with excitement as she scanned it over beforehand, her heart falling slightly when it seemed as though there was no mention of her. 

_‘He could have written it before he met me,’_ she reasoned, _‘Or perhaps he just doesn’t wish to let Lemar know the specific details of his life.’_

She had already been mentally debating telling Robb the truth about herself and Lemar. As strange as it was even to her, she already felt as though she could trust him with the secret she had worked so hard to keep. His words on the page were always so kind and generous, and his demeanour in person somehow succeeded in living up to that as well. Growing up, Margaery had always been taught to be cautious as people were more than capable of seeming to be one thing and actually being another, but Robb was so genuine at times she almost felt at a loss.

She gave a sigh as she clutched the letter to her chest, thinking her whole family would tease her if they knew how enamored she was with the eldest Stark child. 

_“It seems my complaints change from one week to the next.”_ She read his words with care this time around, hoping not to miss anything. “ _I fear you will think me petulant… I ought to be happy with the life I’m leading, and I am for the most part, but you are the only person I feel I can share my grievances with. Only last week was I voicing my concerns over not being able to find a compatible partner, and now my heart is being torn in two different directions.”_

Her eyes grew wide as she took in the next paragraph. “ _I met someone recently who is nothing short of delightful. She is sweet and kind and makes me feel the kinds of things I had only thought possible in your novels. She is also from a prominent family and I believe everything my mother and father might want for me in a companion. Quite frankly, she might well be perfect, and yet there is another who will not leave my thoughts. Someone about whom I know very little, but I yearn to know so much more. My mind tells me I should just forget this other person entirely, but my heart simply cannot.”_

Margaery’s initial reaction was one of confusion. No sooner had she dared to believe that Robb might be writing about her, than it turned out there was someone else who seemed to hold his affection. She reread his words, trying to find some hint as to who this mysterious stranger might be, but nothing jumped out at her. Was it someone he had met back home in Winterfell? Or here in King’s Landing? She felt a bit ashamed of the twinge of jealousy she felt for this person she didn’t even know.

‘ _I might well be perfect,’_ she thought to herself, ‘ _But not perfect for Robb.’_

She blinked back the tears that threatened to form in her eyes, knowing that she was being rather silly. They had only just met, after all, and he barely knew her. Perhaps if they spent more time together, she reasoned, they would be able to discern whether or not they were compatible. 

The only problem was finding the right words to reply to him as Lemar. She couldn’t very well discourage his feelings for someone else, especially if they could make him happier than she. 

_‘I will think of something to write later,_ ’ she concluded, ‘ _Right now I ought to see if the Starks would still like me to join them for supper.’_

It was just as she arrived at the door that she remembered her assertion that she would speak to her parents and brothers before coming, and the fact that actually doing so had completely slipped her mind. She thought about heading back to her own temporary accommodations, but then decided this situation might be for the best. Given that her family’s current goal was to marry her to Joffrey instead of Sansa, it might be a good idea for them to stay away from the Starks for a little while. She was reasonably confident she could think up an excuse to give Ned and Catelyn Stark as well as her own parents when she returned.

‘ _Hopefully they won’t ask too many questions_ ,’ she thought to herself as she knocked on the door. Regardless of everything else, she found that all she really wanted was a chance to see Robb again.

The door swung open to reveal the familiar face she’d been thinking about practically all afternoon. Robb was bright eyed as he looked her over, making her flush pink. 

“Hello!” he exclaimed, “Please, come in... Is it just you, then?”

“Yes. I’m sorry my brothers and parents couldn’t make it. They’re entertaining my goodsister’s family for the night.”

Robb nodded his head in understanding. “Are you certain they won’t mind you having supper with us?”

“Not at all.” She reached for his hand as she made her way inside, giving it a gentle squeeze. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but his cheeks seemed a little redder than usual.

“I’m really glad you were able to come,” Robb said, his tone earnest.

“So am I. I was starting to grow concerned I might be trapped with Prince Joffrey forever,” Margaery replied, and though Robb gave a chuckle she could see he was a little surprised by her honesty. Perhaps she had said a little more than she should have, but for she wanted Robb to know that she wasn’t spending copious amounts of time with Joffrey by choice.

“Robb, Mother is asking if…oh, my.” A girl who looked a few years younger than Robb had emerged into the corridor, and Margaery could only deduce she had to be Sansa Stark. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she added, making to turn back around.

“Oh, no. That’s alright. Robb and I were just talking,” Margaery remarked, reluctantly letting go of her companion’s hand, “It’s good to meet you. Formally.” She gave a polite curtsy and a small smile.

Sansa smiled and curtsied in return. “You’re even lovelier than Robb described you, Miss Margaery. It is good to meet you as well.”

“Lovely, hmm?” Margaery looked over at Robb, giving him a knowing grin as his ears grew pink. 

“Yes, well… I should, erm, see what my mother wanted,” he murmured, seemingly flustered.

“What I wanted was to know if you had heard anything from our potential guest, but it looks like my question has been answered,” Catelyn said, her head poking around the doorway, “Glad you’ll be joining us, Margaery.”

“I’ll set a place for you between me and Robb,” Sansa offered eagerly, “I can’t wait to hear all about your life here in the south.”

“Sansa is convinced that nothing ever happens in the North,” Robb explained, raising his eyebrows with a wry smile, “My apologies in advance if she forgets to give you a bit of a break between questions.”

Margaery gave a soft laugh. “That’s quite alright. I don’t mind.” She noticed Catelyn give her son a subtle nod, and Robb offered her his arm. 

She took hold of it, hoping he wasn’t just being polite. She didn’t want to be just another girl that his family had hopes for, one of the girls he wrote about in his letters to Lemar that he had no real feelings towards.

Catelyn walked ahead with Sansa, prodding her forward so that they were a few paces ahead out of earshot. 

“You look very handsome,” Margaery took the opportunity to say, glancing up at Robb through her lashes, “That color jacket suits you.”

She thought it unlikely that it was a trick of the light this time given just how red Robb’s cheeks became. “I...thank you,” he stammered, “I’ll be glad if I look at least somewhat presentable given the astonishingly elegant and beautiful guest who’ll be joining us for supper.” 

It was Margaery’s turn to blush then. ‘ _Is he like this with all ladies?_ ’ She found it hard to believe Robb was being anything less than sincere, but she also struggled to imagine him being rude to anyone. “A guest, you say? Did your parents also invite one of the many other ladies who kept glancing your way the other night?” she quipped, making him chuckle.

“I’m certain you must be flattering me. I hid behind a pillar for most of the night.”

“And yet you managed to capture my attention anyhow.”

“Most likely _because_ I was hiding behind a pillar.”

She let out a laugh. “I suppose that was part of the reason why. But you can’t tell me you didn’t see all of the women throwing jealous looks my way when you asked me to dance.”

Robb shook his head, his eyebrows raising slightly. “I… I honestly didn’t.”

Margaery bit down on her own bottom lip. Since reading the letter all she could think was that she should reconcile herself to being Robb’s friend and no more, but it was difficult when he insisted on acting this way around her. 

“You are far too modest for a gentleman of your station, Robb,” she remarked, then adding with a small smile, “And I like it very much.”


	4. The Proposal

Robb stared down at the unopened letter in his hands, thinking that, for the first time, he wasn’t entirely excited to read what Lemar had written to him.

It had been a little over a week since the king had offered the position of Hand to Robb’s father, and while he deliberated, the eldest Stark had been spending most of his time in the company of Margaery Tyrell. 

After a rather pleasant supper with her and his family, he found himself wanting to learn more about her and all of her interests and desires. She was good with his siblings, and his parents seemed to adore her. Her presence made him feel warm and delighted and calm all at once, and he was beginning to regret writing Lemar and telling her of his feelings. He feared that if he opened her most recent letter that those emotions would come flooding back again, and in some strange way, he felt as though he was being disloyal to Margaery.

He took in a deep breath and finally opened the letter, telling himself to imagine it was just a letter to a friend. He did consider Lemar a friend, after all, and he hadn’t been explicit about the fact that his feelings were partially directed towards her. He was confident that, one way or another, she would have some good advice for him.

“ _ Dear Robb, _ _   
_ _   
_ __ It seems fitting I begin this letter with ‘dear’, as in truth you have become quite dear to me in the short time we have been corresponding. It always moves me that you speak from the heart and are willing to give a voice to your emotions. I hope you never lose that quality, as I am certain that the person you choose to spend your life with will be grateful for it. Whomever she may be, she is more fortunate than she knows.”

Robb’s eyebrows raised as he folded the letter in his lap, refraining from reading the rest for the time-being. He nearly laughed aloud as he thought over Lemar’s words and what they had suddenly inspired in him. 

As he had read over what she had written about the person he would spend the rest of his life with, a certain individual had come to mind as clear as day. She wasn’t the faceless author that he had come to admire, but rather the beautiful, brown-haired lady whom he never wished to stop spending time with and missed whenever they were apart.

‘ _ I want to spend my life with Margaery,’ _ he thought to himself before repeating the thought aloud. “I want to spend my life with Margaery!”

In his euphoria, he almost failed to notice his youngest brother, who he soon realized had appeared at his feet looking up at him in confusion. “I want Mama,” Rickon informed him, then adding, “I like Margy.”

Robb blinked for a moment before reaching down to pick up the young child. “I like her, too. Let’s go find Mother. I have something very important to tell her.”

“Me, too!” Rickon exclaimed, “I saw a cat!”

Robb gave a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but with Rickon in his arms and Margaery on his mind, he couldn’t help but imagine the family they might start together one day. He left his room with a smile on his face and entered the solar, seeing his mother and sisters sitting at the table. 

“Hello,” he greeted them, setting Rickon down in the chair next to Catelyn, “Do you have a moment to speak with me, Mother?”

“Of course,” Catelyn said, “Is everything all right?”

“Aye,” Robb replied, a smile appearing on his face, “Very much so. I have something to tell you, and also something that I need your help with.”

Sansa’s mouth dropped open, and Robb could see her knees bobbing gently beneath the table. “Oh, Robb, does this mean…?”

“Just let him finish. I’m sure he’s about to tell us,” Arya interrupted her, rolling her eyes. Catelyn gave her a stern look, which only made her face contort into a frown.

“Actually, I hoped I might talk with Mother alone,” Robb admitted with a sheepish smile, “Sorry, Sansa. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Catelyn stood from her chair as Sansa gave a pout and Arya let out a groan. “Watch your little brother doesn’t get into any trouble while I’m gone,” she told them, “Let’s go outside, Robb, shall we?”

Robb gave a nod of his head in reply, taking his mother’s arm when she approached him and opening the door so that they could step out into the corridor. He took a deep breath in before he spoke, though Catelyn’s expression was one of knowing and he was certain she already had predicted what he was going to tell her. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’ve been spending quite some time with Lady Margaery as of late.”

“I have,” Catelyn answered with a hint of a smile, “She seems to be quite a delightful young woman.”

“I agree,” Robb said with a nod, “She’s quite possibly the most delightful young woman I’ve ever met...which is one of the many reasons why I’ve decided to ask for her hand in marriage.”

While he had expected his mother to be pleased with his decision, Robb couldn’t deny he was a little surprised when Catelyn took both of his hands in his with tears in her eyes. “Gods,” she breathed, “Children really do grow up so quickly.”

“Mother…” Robb trailed off before letting go of his mother’s hands and wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “I hope you are happy with my decision.”

“I’m thrilled, Robb,” Catelyn remarked, then drawing back to look at him, “All your father and I have ever wanted is your happiness. When I see you with Margaery… It fills me with joy. She will make such a lovely addition to our family.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” Robb replied, “I know you’ve been worried about me…”

Catelyn pressed her lips together and gave a small nod. “You...you have a great deal of weight on your shoulders, Robb. I wish it didn’t have to be so, sometimes, but...you know what you stand to inherit and you know the responsibilities it comes with,” she said, “I just wanted to make sure you found someone to share them with you.”

“I think I have, Mother. She does need to agree to marry me first, though,” Robb remarked, starting to feel a twisting sensation in his stomach, “I don’t know exactly how she feels about me. I also don’t know...she spends a lot of time with Prince Joffrey, although from what she tells me she doesn’t seem all that fond of him.”

“There are quite a few women who spend time with Prince Joffrey… your sister included,” Catelyn said with a somewhat disapproving look, “That doesn’t necessarily mean they wish to marry him, though a member of the royal family would be considered a good match for any young lady… But I’ve seen the way Margaery looks at you, and I’d be willing to bet that she’d give up the opportunity to be with a prince for love.”

Robb’s face flushed red at his mother’s comments. “She deserves the world, honestly. But if I can’t give her that then I want to at least bring her happiness... I was hoping you might help me, Mother. I want my proposal to be special for her sake.”

Catelyn looked thoughtful. “Well, you’ll want to make sure to tell her father your intentions, first of all. It is a somewhat outdated custom but it is expected, and I see no reason why Mace Tyrell would say no,” she noted, “Although I presume that isn’t what you mean by ‘special’.”

“Not exactly,” Robb admitted with a small, nervous chuckle.

“I think...perhaps you could put to good use those writing skills of yours,” Catelyn suggested, raising her eyebrows, “Your father has never been one to write letters, but since you are, why not make the most of it? There are few things to be cherished more than words that come from the heart.”

Robb slowly nodded his head, a smile appearing on his face once more. “Thank you, Mother. I think I know exactly what to do now,” he declared, wrapping his arms around her once more in a hug.

* * *

“Did you hear me, Margaery?”

Margaery gave a nod without really thinking, her head spinning with the information she’d just recieved. Her cousin had come bounding into her room with news that might have been well accepted prior to her meeting Robb, but now she wanted nothing more than to disappear and forget what she’d just learned. 

Rumor had it that Prince Joffrey was planning on proposing marriage to her. She tried not to panic as she thought of how to respond to Alla without letting her know that she wasn’t best pleased.

“I did, cousin,” she answered, finally, “I can scarcely believe it.” That part was true, at least. “I do think it unwise to get my hopes up before anyone speaks to Father, however,” she added.

“It must be difficult not to, though,” Alla remarked, momentarily cupping her chin with her own hands, “Gods, marrying a prince. Can you even imagine? You would be royalty, Margaery.”

“I  _ can _ imagine it,” Margaery admitted with a gentle sigh. She already knew exactly what to expect from a marriage to Joffrey Baratheon, and the thought was about as appealing to her as the thought of being forced to take an ice-cold bath.

“You don’t seem very excited about the prospect,” Alla noted, her brow furrowing slightly.

Margaery shook her head. “Oh no, I’m  _ elated _ ,” she lied through her teeth, giving a smile, “I just… I should speak with my father and let him in on the news. If you’ll excuse me, cousin.”

She stood from her seat and hastily curtsied before making her way out of the room, the smile fading from her face. She had no intention of going to see her father despite what she’d told Alla, instead heading towards the eldest Stark’s quarters in hopes that she would find him there.

A good few minutes went by after her first knock at the door, and she wondered if perhaps he wasn’t in. She thought she heard some shuffling, however, and then footsteps, and soon afterwards the door swung open to reveal a face that looked surprised but happy to see her.

“Margaery!” he exclaimed before clearing his throat and adopting a more sober posture, “It’s so good to see you. Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Margaery answered before shaking her head, “No... I’m not sure. Could I… Do you mind if we go inside?”

Robb glanced behind him, seemingly hesitant about inviting her into his quarters. “Erm… Yes, sorry. Please don’t mind the mess.” He stepped back and gestured for her to make her way inside. 

She could see that the table was littered with crumpled parchment. Quills were scattered and ink was spilled. She raised her eyebrows slightly but decided not to judge; she herself was a wreck at the present and was certain Robb had never seen her so frazzled. 

“You’re making me a little concerned. I hope you’re not in any kind of trouble,” Robb remarked, his brow furrowed. Margaery had been about to reply when he reached for and gently took her hand, and for a moment she forgot what she had been about to say.

‘ _ Gods, why do you have to be so delightful, Robb Stark? _ ’ she wondered to herself as the crease in his brow only became more prominent. “Margaery?” he asked when she still didn’t respond.

“I...rumor has it Prince Joffrey is going to propose to me,” Margaery blurted out, “I’m sorry. Your family and particularly Sansa deserve to know.”

Before he had time to respond, she took hold of his other hand, her eyes filling with tears as she felt her resolve begin to crumble. “I don’t want to marry Joffrey. And I don’t want Sansa to marry him either,” she admitted quietly, her gaze dropping to the floor, “Robb, I… I know I am not your first choice, but I would be a good wife to you, and I could make you happy.” 

She glanced back up at him and tried to read his expression, unsure if he was confused or stunned or perhaps both. Either way, a soft smile grew on her face in spite of her worries and sadness as she looked over the man she had grown so fond of. “I love you,” she told him, “I will marry Joffrey if you will not have me, but I would be amiss if I did not tell you that.”

“Margaery…” Robb breathed, and she braced herself for the worst, “What in the world would make you think that you wouldn’t be my first choice?”

Margaery blinked for a moment, unsure as to whether she’d heard him correctly. “Pardon?” she asked.

“I love you,” Robb replied softly, “I’d be devastated if you married Joffrey.”

“You… you love me?” Margaery queried, her heart giving something akin to a flutter. Her eyes filled with happy tears this time around as Robb nodded his head with a smile, and she let go of his hands to throw her arms around his neck in an embrace. 

He slid his arms around her and held her close for some time, then drawing back and meeting her gaze. “I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant over the past few days… I’ve been here, in the process of writing you several letters chronicling my love for you,” he explained, the tips of his ears going pink, “I was planning on proposing to you, Margaery… I just wasn’t quick enough, it seems.”

“I accept,” Margaery replied immediately, a broad smile on her face, “Was my answer quick enough?”

Robb let out a laugh, leaning in to rest his forehead gently against hers. “I haven’t so much as kissed you yet, sweet Margaery,” he commented.

“We can easily fix that,” Margaery assured him.

“Or shown you any of my letters…”

“Oh, I’ve read enough of your letters to already know they’ll be wonderful.”

Robb’s brow furrowed again, and he blinked at her several times. “As far as I know, I haven’t shown you any of my letters,” he remarked bemusedly, “Am I truly that forgetful?”

Margaery shook her head sheepishly, biting down on her bottom lip. “I’m afraid I’ve been keeping a secret from you, my love,” she explained, “We have been in correspondence since you first started writing the author, Tyler Gray Lemar. You see… Lemar and I are one in the same. I thought you loved another because in your letters… You spoke of a woman who would not leave your thoughts.”

Robb’s mouth fell ajar for several seconds before he broke into laughter, practically lifting her off her feet in enthusiasm when he wrapped her in an embrace once more and pressed his lips to hers.

Margaery had certainly written about kisses, but unlike her protagonist Lyra she could not say she had experienced being kissed by someone whom she loved and loved her in return. What she found was that the joy that overcame her while she was wrapped in Robb’s embrace was unlike anything she had felt before. When he pulled away slightly, looking as though he might be concerned about being overeager, she merely moved back in to kiss him again.

“Seven hells, Margaery,” he cursed under his breath, making her giggle. His next words, however, were enough to bring her back into reality at least for a few moments. “It would seem, then, that I have fallen in love with you twice.”

“Pardon?” Margaery found herself saying again, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

“The other woman that I wrote about… She was Lemar,” Robb said, letting out a small laugh.

Margaery gave a laugh of her own, shaking her head in both amusement and awe. “Oh, what a fool I’ve been!” she exclaimed, “I should have told you long ago that I was Lemar, but I was worried… No one knows, not even my brothers.”

“The world ought to know just how talented you are. I’m sorry you’ve had to conceal your identity, my love,” Robb said softly, “I do feel especially honored now that the author of  _ Unbridled  _ just praised my writing in person.”

Margaery giggled. “You’re not cross?” she asked as her eyes met his.

“No, of course not,” Robb replied, shaking his head, “I  _ am _ a little disappointed in myself for not piecing that together.”

“Tyler Gray Lemar is an anagram… I simply rearranged the letters of my name,” she told him, trailing her fingers delicately over his back.

“Gods, you are clever and beautiful and wonderful… I’m not sure how I got so lucky.” Robb leaned in to kiss her again, making her head dizzy with desire.

She only drew back slightly when they broke from one another, her eyes dancing over his face. “Thank you for supporting me,” she murmured, “I have never been this happy before, Robb. Never.”

“Neither have I. It’s like something out of one of your novels,” Robb whispered back, his smile broad. He leant in as if to kiss her again, but at the very last moment paused and raised his eyebrows. “If Joffrey is planning on proposing to you, I must speak to your father at once,” he seemed to realize.

“Perhaps you ought to speak to  _ your _ father first, my love,” Margaery suggested, running a hand down his arm, “If he is still making his decision then he ought to know as much as possible going in. Perhaps this way we can prevent Sansa from marrying him.”

“She won’t be happy,” Robb remarked, “She’s besotted with him.”

“I think when she falls in love… when she  _ truly  _ falls in love, she will thank us down the line,” Margaery said with a soft smile, “And if your father does accept King Robert’s offer… I am sure my family would be willing to surround him with advisers and people he can trust here in King’s Landing.”

Robb’s eyebrows shot up even further, causing Margaery to let out a small giggle. “Gods… You’re so brilliant. You think of things that never would have crossed my mind,” he admitted, “I’ll be sure to let my father know of your plans as well. Perhaps he might be less reluctant to say yes to Robert knowing that he’ll be safe here.”

Margaery beamed at that, and couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss Robb again. She had intended it to be quick, but she ended up lingering against her beloved’s lips for a little while. “I’m sorry, dear Robb,” she murmured, barely pulling away from him, “I seem to keep distracting you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Robb whispered back.


	5. Epilogue

Robb Stark took off his hat as he approached the door to King’s Landing’s largest bookshop, holding on to the brim with one hand while he held his wife’s with the other. His eyes were bright and he found himself filled with excitement of a kind that reminded him of when he had discovered his first T.G. Lemar novel. This, however, felt even better. 

“Are you nervous, sweetheart?” Robb asked, turning towards the elegantly dressed woman beside him.

“A little,” Margaery admitted, but she managed a smile, “I’m definitely glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, my love,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. 

His smile only grew as her face lit up with happiness, and he opened the door for them both, nearly going breathless at the sight of display after display filled with familiar-looking books. 

“I’m so proud of you, you know that, right?” Robb remarked, “Will you promise to sign my copy for me?”

Margaery giggled at that. “Of course I will, my love, if that’s what you’d like,” she answered. 

“It would be a dream come true,” Robb affirmed, “If I may be so bold I might even ask for a personal dedication.”

“How could I say no to my biggest fan?” Margaery teased, looking at him from beneath her lashes before she leaned in to meet his lips in a tender kiss. Their moment was, however, cut short by the quiet yet noticeable sound of the bookshop owner who had stepped up behind them, clearing his throat.

“Mr. and Mrs. Stark, I presume?” the man questioned, peering over his glasses at the young couple.

“Indeed,” Margaery replied with a raise of her eyebrows, causing Robb to laugh gently at his wife’s antics. He found himself falling more and more in love with her on the daily, thinking it wonderful how she always spoke her mind and never let anything or anyone get in her way. He felt lucky to be married to someone so spirited and who inspired spirit in others.

“The table over there is all set up for the reading and signing,” the bookshop owner remarked, nodding to a display in the center of the room. 

Margaery exchanged an excited look with Robb and he grinned in return. “Thank you,” she said to the bookshop owner, “Everything looks perfect.” With that, she led her husband by the hand over to the spot where she would be sitting. 

“So have you made the final decision?” Robb asked, “Which pages of your wonderful writing will you be gracing these very fortunate ladies and gentleman with?”

“I think I have,” Margaery replied, “Chapter three. The passage where the two strangers meet for the first time.”

“One of my favorites. But I don’t know if it tops the chapter when they confess their love.”

She giggled again, sending his heart aflutter. “I’ve been thinking…” she started, taking both of his hands in hers.

“Go on,” he encouraged, knowing from her expression that she had something good to tell him.

“Well, I would very much like my  _ next _ novel to be a partnership.” She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a pen, offering it to him. “Will you be my co-author, sweetheart?”

Robb looked between his wife and the pen for several seconds, his eyes wide. “Margaery, I...I don’t know. Are you sure?” he asked, adding, “I’m no writer.”

“Then it wasn’t you who wooed me with those beautiful letters?” Margaery asked, her eyebrows raised in mock indignation, “Oh, dear. I may have married the wrong man.” 

Robb could only chuckle at that, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “You are a wonderful writer, my love, and I know it would be a pleasure to work with you,” Margaery continued, “Besides, it will be good practice for what I’m sure will be our next collaboration.” She smiled as she let her hand come to rest gently on her own stomach. 

He could only grin, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her lips then. “I accept,” he breathed when they drew back. “Co-author of your -  _ our - _ next novel… I can scarcely wait, Margaery.”

“And co-author of our baby-to-be,” she teased, her gaze warm, “I can scarcely wait for that as well.”

“We can start writing tonight… among other things.”

“Ah, so it sounds as though I  _ did _ marry the correct man.” Margaery leant in towards him again, but once more they were interrupted by the distinctive sound of someone clearing their throat. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Stark,” the bookshop owner said again, “Should I let them in?”

He indicated towards the door, and Robb glanced over to see an already decent-sized crowd of men and women gathered outside with eager expressions. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he asked, giving her waist a gentle, encouraging squeeze.

“Aye,” she replied, pressing a quick kiss to his nose, “I’m ready for anything, so long as you’re by my side.”


End file.
